


The Same Goes For Anything

by yellow_backpack



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Peterick, Peterick Fluff, i KNOW ITS BAD DONT ATTACK ME, idk its cute i guess, tw:mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:56:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_backpack/pseuds/yellow_backpack
Summary: I won't give you summaries, you need to read it lol





	The Same Goes For Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheesehunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesehunter/gifts).



> This one's for you, cheesehunter! I think I'll just gift all my works to you from now on haha. Let me know what you think of that!! :)  
> ALSO I"M SORRY IT"S SO SHORT AND ENDS SO ABRUPTLY I LOST THE ORIGINAL FILE AND WAS SO DESPERATE TO GET IT BACK THAT I CONTACTED SUPPORT SO I LOST LIKE AN HOUR OF WRITING TIME BUT I DID GET IT BACK :')

Pete could not sleep to save his life.

Usually, his insomnia was bad, but tonight it was a monster. Not in the ‘depressed’ way, either, the ‘I can’t sleep’ way.

Pete rolled over so he was on his right side to face Patrick, trying not to wake him. He’d had a long day in the studio, and he had come home frustrated, so Pete decided to let him sleep it off.

He stared at Patrick. God, he was adorable when he slept. It had always baffled Pete—Patrick had never once thought he was a decent person, but everyone else seemed to think the opposite. They’d always tell him he was talented, cute, and things like that, and he may have smiled and accepted the compliments to be polite, but Pete knew for a fact that Patrick had never once believed any of them. And he knew this because Patrick had told him. More than once.

What could Patrick not see in himself? Pete didn’t understand, and it made him sad. Patrick was a million-dollar gift; _anyone_ would be lucky to have him.

Pete remembered reading somewhere that it was better to talk to someone while they were sleeping, because they could still hear you but they couldn’t argue with you or invalidate what you were saying. Pete felt like putting that to the test.

He turned so he was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His hands were clasped and settled on his stomach, the blankets pulled up to his waist. He took a deep breath and started to talk.

“Hey, ‘Trick, I know you probably can’t hear this because you’re asleep, but, I was just thinking about this and it made me really sad, and I just—you know you’re beautiful, right? I remember that one night that you got so sad over yourself that you started to cry and you told me that you don’t understand why I chose you over everybody I could have, that nothing you ever did was good enough and you’re ugly and—” Pete’s breath hitched. He hadn’t realized that the thoughts floating around in Patrick’s head made him so sad until now, and his eyes started to water. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper, but still loud enough that Patrick’s brain would be able to hear. “I remember when you showed me the scars. You looked like you felt a foot tall. God, you were _so_ scared. You wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and I didn’t make you. And when you showed me, and it really settled in that my gorgeous, sweet, dear-to-my-heart Patrick did this to himself, I cried. You don’t know about that part. After I held you and shushed you until you were so exhausted from crying that you fell asleep, when I knew you were asleep and wouldn’t hear me, I cried. They were only pink lines, but they were _all over you_ —your calves, thighs, stomach, wrists, arms, shoulders. And they scared me, because now I knew how deep this went, how bad the trauma was, how… empty you felt.” Pete’s eyes were squeezed shut at this point. “You’ve said so many awful, self-deprecating things about yourself, so many times, and none of them are even _close_ to the truth. ‘Trick, I’m not the smartest person on the planet, but I do know one thing: You’re worth it. I don’t care if you don’t believe it or not, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks. I know that you’re legitimately the most amazing, wonderful, genuine, beautiful person that I’ve ever met or been friends with or had a relationship with—and trust me, that’s saying a _lot_ , ‘cause I can get around. That’s why I chose you. You’re honest, and loyal. And I didn’t realize that that was what I wanted until I had you. _I love you_ , ‘Tricky. So, so much. And I _hate_ to see you get down on yourself, because _none_ of those thoughts are true. At all. I love every single part of you. I love your hair. Your eyes are adorable. You think you have the worst body in the history of ever, but I think it’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. You think you don’t measure up to the people I’ve had in the past, but I can tell you right now that I may have thought I loved them, but none of them have ever been you. You’re beautiful, and passionate about the things you love. I would call you something other than beautiful, but I honestly don’t think there’s a word for what I’m feeling right now. And I swear, with every breath I have, I'm going to make you believe that you're loved. I will help you learn to love yourself, as you helped me learn to love myself. I will keep you out of the dark. And if you ever slip, I will help you through the dark.” Pete stopped for a minute. “Sorry, I’ve never really been the best at conveying my emotions right. But that had to be said. I just want to see you happy, truly, genuinely happy for once. Whether that be with me or someone else. I just want to see that light in your eyes again.”

Pete opened his eyes and sighed. He just needed to get that off his chest, he didn’t expect anyone to be able to hear that. So he certainly didn’t expect it when he heard a small sniff coming from somewhere around his right side.

Pete sat up and whipped his body around to see a pair of watery green eyes staring at him and leaking tears, barely visible above the top of the blankets.

He’d woken Patrick up.

And he was crying.

Shoot.

_ Oh my God, I hurt him, Patrick’s hurting, I said something wrong, oh God, what did I do, no— _

“Patrick, oh God, I woke you up, you weren’t supposed to hear that, I’m so _ — _ ”

Patrick shot up like a bullet and wound his arms around Pete’s neck, pressing his body as close to Pete’s as he could get. Pete relaxed when he saw that Patrick wasn’t angry with him, and wrapped one arm around his middle. He slid the other up his neck and settled it in his hair. They stayed there for a solid five minutes, Patrick crying into Pete’s shoulder and Pete rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Right now, nothing mattered more: the world could be ending, for all Pete cared, and he’d still sit here, with Patrick, his Patrick, for all of eternity.

Patrick slowly stopped crying and pulled away, but Pete moved both his hands to Patrick’s shoulders. “Oh my God, Pete,” Patrick whispered in a tiny voice.

“What? Are you alright?” Pete looked into Patrick’s eyes with real, genuine concern, and Patrick melted.

“Yeah, I just didn't realize you thought about me that way—oh my God, Pete, I love you, I love you so much, Pete, God, _Pete_ —” Patrick's voice was shaking. He buried his face in Pete’s neck and curled up in his lap. He repeated it, over and over, while Pete smiled and kissed his hair. Patrick stopped and looked up at Pete and said, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I swear to God. You're all I could've asked for and more. God, I love you. So much. I hope you know that."

Pete grinned. "Yeah, I know that. You've never let me forget. And yeah, I think about you that way. You're the love of my life, Lunchbox. You're a masterpiece. I really hope that I can get you to believe that someday."

Patrick blushed. "I'll believe it. Just for tonight." 

Pete's face lit up at that. 

Patrick's eyelids drooped. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Mkay,” Patrick mumbled. He slid off Pete’s lap while Pete lay back down and immediately curled up at his side once he was situated. Pete put an arm around Patrick to make them both more comfortable, and started petting his hair. Patrick made a muffled noise—he liked the feeling. Pete smiled. “God, you’re adorable.”

“Shut up,” Patrick sleepily whispered. “Goodnight, Petey. I love you. A lot.”

Pete hummed. “I love you too, ‘Tricky. A lot. Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> I checked the grammar rules and it is lay! Please don't attack me! Lol  
> Cheesehunter, please let me know what you think in the comments! I need to know if it sucks or not and also if you want the rest of my works haha!


End file.
